


First Impressions

by Briniest



Category: The Emperor's Edge Series - Lindsay Buroker
Genre: Gen, It exists in the same universe as The Emperor's Edge though, So I figured it was close enough, This is technically Forgotten Ages fanfiction but there isn't a category for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briniest/pseuds/Briniest
Summary: Why did Bocrest seem to hate Rias so much when he was aboard The Emperor's Fist? It seemed so much more personal than just hatred of a man who betrayed his country. This story (hopefully series) examines possible scenarios for that.





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> When I originally had the idea for this, it was going to be a series of linked one-shots of an unlikely sort-of friendship forming between Rias and Bocrest prior to the former's banishment and the events of Encrypted. I'm still hoping for more ideas, but I have the one solid story right now, and I think it's kinda fun, so I wanted to share it.  
> ~<3, Pickles

Captain Harbeg Bocrest marched down to his ship’s engine room in a huff. The Emperor's Fist was scheduled to depart two minutes ago, but still no smoke rose from the towering stacks. What were those slagheads doing down here that was delaying them so much? "If this ship doesn't pick up steam, it'll be you lot getting tossed into the furnaces next," he bellowed as he burst through the door. There was a man’s lower half sticking out of the coal chute, an open toolbox with many of its components littering the deck next to him. “You there,” he hollered at the trousers, “why aren’t we moving yet?”

"Because, Captain, your engineering team figured it was better to delay our departure by a few minutes than blow a hole in the hull on the open sea," replied Trousers, still in the bowels of the machinery. The voice was not one he recognized, but the man's location was distorting it. Unless he simply assumed whoever came down here to bark orders must be the captain.

“Well, how much longer are you expecting it to take?” Bocrest asked tersely.   
“Just waiting on one of your engineers to get back with a new fill gauge, and we should be ready to start her up.” As he spoke, he extricated himself from his work, revealing a soot-smeared undershirt, a face that was equally dirty, and thick, dark hair that would probably mirror his own military cut were it not sticking out at odd angles from his adventure in the machine’s bowels. Were he to guess, the captain would place him a good twenty years younger than himself, likely in his thirties. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his face and hands with it.  
“I was walking by, hoping to ask for a bunk on your ship when I heard about the problem. I’m pretty familiar with the workings of these systems, so I offered to take a look.”  
“Sounds like I’ll have to keep you aboard, then,” Bocrest said. “So that if anything goes wrong with your repairs, we’ll know where to find you. The new fleet admiral is supposed to do an inspection the next time we make port.”  
A flash of indignation sparked across the mystery engineer’s face, only to be smothered and replaced with a wry twist of the lips and the arch of a scarred eyebrow. “Indeed.”  
“Report to me once you’re finished here, and I’m sure we can find you a bunk.” His questions answered, Bocrest turned to leave, a returning engineer nearly bowling him over as he returned with, probably, what the handy stranger needed.  
“Watch where you're going, marine,” he chided.  
The young man blinked a few times, as if roused from a daze. “Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”  
\--------  
Some fifteen minutes later, while studying the map of their plotted course, a knock came at the door.  
“Enter,” he answered, turning to face the door.  
It was the man from before, but now, wearing the top half of his uniform, the captain nearly choked on his tongue. The name on his chest read ‘Starcrest’ and the patches on his jacket and hat proclaimed him to hold the highest naval rank in the empire.  
“You’re the new fleet admiral?” asked Bocrest, trying to keep his anger tightly leashed. He was probably in enough trouble already. "You're much younger than I expected, sir."  
"Youngest in history, so I'm told," he drawled. Curse him, he sounded amused.  
“So, how exactly does Turgonia’s youngest ever fleet admiral end up in my boiler room covered in soot? ...Sir.”   
“I told you that when you came down there. And I’m happy to report that everything now appears to be in working order, and we can depart without any further delay, Captain.” If Starcrest had sounded less smug, it would have made it easier for Bocrest to eat his earlier words, but arrogance ran deep in Turgonian men, and the old captain was about ready to chew lead.  
If he was lucky, his slight against the admiral wouldn’t foster a grudge, but only time would tell how Starcrest reacted. One thing was for sure, he definitely wasn’t ready to apologize just yet.  
Instead, he asked, “Shall I take you to one of the officers cabins, sir? If none are empty, I’m sure any one of them would be more than happy to give you theirs.”  
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” replied the young admiral, face a blank slate of professionalism. He gestured to the door, inviting Bocrest to lead the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Bocrest doesn't have a canon first name, so I made one up. I also guestimated how old Rias was when he became a Fleet Admiral. This is set roughly 7 years prior to Encrypted.


End file.
